


Pecan Pie

by GreyMichaela



Series: Coffee Cake [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Asexual Character, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Coffee Cake and Beignets.  Dean is a mechanic, making a comfortable living restoring and building custom cars, but something's missing from his life.  Castiel works for his father, the business mogul, and dreams of breaking away and becoming his own man.</p><p>When Castiel's car breaks down, he calls Dean.  Maybe they'll be able to help each other find what they're looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Coffee Cake and Beignets, obviously, are no longer on AO3. I'm sorry about that! You don't really need a lot of backstory for this, though. Sam is asexual, he and Gabriel have been together for about 18 months at this point. In Beignets, Gabriel went through severe emotional trauma due to the attempts on his life in Coffee Cake, and he and Sam broke up for a time while he worked through it. They're back together and happy now.
> 
> Usual disclaimer: this work belongs to me. If you're reading it anywhere but AO3, it's been stolen. I'm also working on Moonlight, so updates will be when I get a chapter finished, not on any kind of schedule, although I'll do my best to keep to a twice-weekly thing.
> 
> With thanks to Aaliya, who catches my mistakes and makes me better in every way.
> 
> Have fun, cats and kittens!

Dean woke up in a surprisingly good mood.  He’d slept well; gotten to bed at a reasonable hour for once, and made it through to morning without waking once, which was a rarity most nights.

He got out of bed and stretched, yawning, and stumbled for the kitchen to switch on the coffeemaker before his shower.

Clean and dressed, he stuck a bagel between his teeth and poured the entire pot into his huge thermos before heading out the door and climbing into Baby. The vintage car purred to life around him and he patted her dash.

“Mornin’, gorgeous,” he said.  “How’s life treating you?”

The drive to work took less than five minutes, and Ash greeted him cheerfully. Dean waved at him and headed for the office.

“Where’s Bobby?” he said as he walked in.

“Running late,” Ash said, his feet propped up on the desk. 

“What’s on the roster for today?”

Ash tossed him the schedule for the day and Dean sat down and perused it, muttering to himself.

“So, Mrs. Hendricks’ car, Watson’s hog… okay, guess I’d better get started.” He pushed himself to his feet, handing the paper back.

He was halfway through his day, whistling along with the Led Zeppelin pouring out of the speakers, when Ash buzzed him over the intercom.

“Got a tow, Dean,” he shouted.

“Get Bobby,” Dean snapped. “I’m busy.”

“This guy asked for you specifically,” Ash said.  “Would you get in here so I can stop shouting?”

Dean sighed and dropped his wrench back on the tool bench, stalking for the office. “I’m _this_ close to getting Mrs. Hendricks’ engine sorted, man, who the hell wants me?”

“Some guy named Castiel,” Ash said, shrugging and handing over the work order.

“Castiel… Warren?” Dean asked, startled.

“I guess,” Ash said.  He was already absorbed back into whatever he was doing on that damn computer; probably something two shades south of legal, Dean thought, unsure whether he should be annoyed or apprehensive.

Instead he looked over the order.  “Man, he doesn’t even have the kind of car I usually work on!” he complained.

“So tell him that yourself, would you?” Ash snapped.

Dean blinked and looked at the phone handset lying on the desk.  “You didn’t even put him on _hold_?” he hissed, grabbing the receiver.

Ash shrugged.

“I’m docking your damn pay,” Dean snarled, and put the phone to his ear. “Castiel?”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel’s gravelly voice was just as impressive over the phone, Dean decided. “If this is a problem, I’m sure I can find a wrecker that is closer and can come retrieve my vehicle.”

“No, no!” Dean said hastily.  “Just… tell me where you are.”

Castiel gave him directions and Dean jotted them down, swearing to himself when the pen ran out of ink and he had to snatch the one Ash offered him.

“Be there in fifteen,” he said, and hung up.  “I mean it, Ash, no Christmas bonus for you.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Ash mumbled, clearly still deep in his project.

Dean sighed and strode out of the office and headed for his favorite rig. So maybe she couldn’t corner like Baby, but damn if she didn’t purr for him just as sweet.  Dean patted the hood as he climbed into the cab, long legs making the jump effortlessly.

His thoughts circled as he drove.  He hadn’t seen Castiel since Sam had moved to New Orleans.  Castiel had flown down there when Gabriel had had his meltdown, but Sam had refused to allow Dean to do the same.

“I’m _fine,_ Dean,” he’d told him over the phone.

“Dude,” Dean had said.  “Your voice is doing the wobbly shit again.”

Sam had just sighed. “Okay, so I’m not fine. But I will be. I just… I have to figure this out on my own, okay?  Can you just let me do that?”

Dean hadn’t liked it; had _hated_ it, really, but he also knew that Sam was growing up and unlike their father, Dean respected the man that Sam had become enough to let him go.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t jumping every time his phone rang, though. When Sam had finally called to tell him that he and Gabriel were back together and had worked their shit out, Dean had punched the air in victory.  The joy in his little brother’s voice was palpable over the phone, and that alone was enough to keep Dean from beating Gabriel up the way he’d considered doing a few times.

Dean downshifted for the intersection and then accelerated again, watching for the dark Bentley that Castiel had described.  He spotted it a few minutes, a lean figure leaning despondently against the door, and Dean smiled to himself as he pulled off the road in front of the expensive vehicle and hopped out.

Castiel brightened when he saw him and held out a hand.  “It’s very good to see you again,” he said gravely, and Dean grinned at him.

“Yeah well, I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress,” he said lightly.

Castiel’s brows knitted and he tilted his head.  “I am not… oh.  You’re teasing me. Would it help if I put on a flowing white dress?”

Dean laughed outright and punched him gently on the arm.  “Look at you making with the humor!  Okay, so what’s this beauty’s problem?”

“It’s my driver’s day off,” Castiel said ruefully, following him towards the front of the car, “and I confess I do not know much about engines, or cars in general. When it made a rattling noise, I thought perhaps I’d hit a pothole, but then it sounded worse. I started looking for a place to pull over, and just as I found one, the engine sputtered and then just… stopped. The wheel wouldn’t turn at all. I had to wrestle it over to get the vehicle off the road.”

Dean hummed in the back of his throat as he inspected the engine, which was pristinely kept.

“I’ll know more once I get it back to the garage.  Get what you need out of her now, I’m going to put her up on the truck.”

Castiel obeyed and Dean got to work as Castiel stood off to the side and watched, an anxious look on his handsome features.  The summer wind ruffled his heavy shock of dark hair, making him squint against the dust that swirled around him.  Dean glanced away, back to the car inching off the gravel and onto the flatbed.

When it was safely shackled to the truck, Dean gestured to the cab. “Hop in,” he said. “Free taxi ride comes with the service.”

Castiel’s eyes creased with amusement and he clambered into the truck with surprising agility, buckling himself in as Dean jumped in the other side.

“Hungry?” Dean asked cheerfully as he started the rig.  “Or do you have places to be?”

“I… could eat,” Castiel allowed. 

“Barbecue okay?”

“Certainly,” Castiel said. 

They didn’t speak over the rumble of the engine until Dean parked and turned the truck off.

“I know it’s not in the South,” Dean said, “but this place makes the best barbecue north of the Mason-Dixon line.”

Castiel’s lips quirked up but he said nothing, unbuckling and sliding out of the cab with a slithery grace.

Dean followed him in the restaurant and the proprietor greeted them both with open arms.

“Dean! _And_ Castiel! Two of my favorite patrons, here at the same time, is it Christmas?  Or are you on a date?  Shall I bring a candle for the table?”

“Shut it, Leon,” Dean said, laughing even as he leveled a stare at Castiel, whose lips were twitching again.

Leon grinned and led them to Dean’s favorite table and left to get their drinks while Dean drummed his fingers on the table and Castiel looked innocent.

“You’ve been here before,” Dean finally said, and Castiel shrugged.

“A few times,” he said.

“You sly dog,” Dean said, starting to laugh.  “And here you had me thinking I was introducing you to a hidden gem!”

“You never actually asked,” Castiel pointed out.  “You simply assumed.”

“Fair enough,” Dean conceded, grinning.

They made small talk while they waited for their food and when they were finished eating, Dean pushed away from the table with a satisfied sigh.

“Hit the spot, that did.  Where do you want me to drop you?” he asked Castiel, who was carefully cleaning his greasy fingers.

“Oh… I thought I could just wait at your shop while you work on it,” Castiel said, surprised.

Dean snorted. “Dude.  I haven’t even really looked at it yet – I have no idea what’s going on with it.  It could be hours; hell, it could be _days._ ”

“In that case,” Castiel said, “If you would just drive me to your shop, I will settle the bill and call a cab from there.”

Dean pulled out his wallet to pay Leon, waving away Castiel’s attempts to contribute. “Is this the first time you’ve taken a car in for repairs?” he asked.

“Maybe?” Castiel said.

Dean stood up, putting his wallet back in his pocket.  “You don’t pay until at the very earliest, I’m done with figuring out how much it will cost.  So you don’t owe me anything right now.”

Castiel stood too, fidgeting.  “Not even for the tow?”

Dean sent him an easy smile and headed for the door, feeling Castiel fall into step behind him as he lifted a hand to Leon and emerged into the early afternoon sunlight. “It was on the way.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t push it.  They rode back to the garage in silence and Dean gestured toward Ash in the office.

“He’s got a list of the cab companies we work with.”

Castiel held out his hand and surprised, Dean took it.  Castiel’s grip was firm and dry, and Dean found himself a little reluctant to let go.  He coughed and stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

“Thank you for your help,” Castiel said, and turned to enter the office.

Dean watched him go and finally turned his attention back to getting the Bentley off the rig and up onto the rack so he could examine it.

He decided against getting into the pit.  He wanted better light so he could see the underside of the car, figure out exactly what was going on with that suspicious clunking noise.

As usual, Dean was so deeply engrossed in what he was doing within the first few minutes that he didn’t hear the office door opening behind him. 

“Stuffy in here!” Bobby complained, and hit the button for the sliding door.

Dean grunted, elbow deep in the undercarriage of the Bentley, and then swore when a gust of wind scattered gritty dust into his eyes.

“Dammit, Bobby, that’s why it was closed; it’s fuckin’ _windy_ out!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby said, sitting down in a folding chair.  “Your boy Castiel is still in the office waitin’ on that cab. Maybe you should go keep him company.”

“Not my boy,” Dean muttered, and swore as his wrench slipped and barked his knuckles sharply.

Ash suddenly popped out of the office, his eyes wide with alarm. “Dean, man, get out from under there _right now.”_

Dean froze, still up to his elbows in the inner workings of the engine. “Why?” he said very carefully.

“That’s the lift that Garth was having trouble with.  He says the right joist is weakened, needs to be replaced. I thought he told you. C’mon man… _move._ ”

Dean held his breath and began to replace the nut he’d just removed.

The wind howled and a vicious gust of air blasted through the open door, hitting the back of the heavy car and making it rock on its platform. Dean sucked in air and let go of the nut.

The wrench clattered to the floor with a loud clang as the lift groaned and collapsed sideways.  Dean flung himself out of the way, feeling something catching his jeans’ leg as he fell. He sprawled on his back, the air driven from his lungs, and looked up just in time to see the Bentley sliding backwards off the rack and heading straight for him.

That was the last thing he remembered.

 

When he opened his eyes, his surroundings were all white.

Dean worked moisture into his cottony mouth, blinking eyes that were gummy with crusted sleep.

“’M I… dead?” he mumbled.

Castiel leaned into his field of vision, dark blue eyes pinched with worry. “You’re in the hospital, Dean,” he said gently.

“What… happened?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s mouth drew down.  “My car… fell on you.”

“Oh.” Dean thought about this for a minute.  “That… sucks. Why do I feel like ‘m floatin’?”

“That would be the drugs,” Castiel said, a tiny bit of amusement filtering into his voice.

“How bad ‘m I hurt?” Dean whispered.

Castiel tensed.  “You need to speak to the doctor,” he said.

“No, _you_ tell me,” Dean said weakly, but Castiel was already pushing the call button for the nurse.

When the doctor came in, Dean vaguely recognized her as the petite doctor who had taken care of Gabriel during his stint in and out of the hospital. Her name started with an H, he thought.

“I’m Dr. Hannigan, Dean,” the doctor said.  “You had a nasty accident.  Can you tell me where you are?”

“Vermont,” Dean said.  His eyes kept wanting to close.

“Close enough,” Dr. Hannigan said.  “The car landed on your right leg just above your knee.  Dean, stay with me for a minute.”

Dean opened his eyes and looked at the dark-haired woman.

“We had to do emergency surgery,” she said gently.  “We nearly lost your leg.”

“It’s… broken?” Dean said blankly.

“It’s more than broken,” the doctor said.  “The bone was shattered in several places.  It’s one of the worst breaks I’ve ever seen, and you’re a very lucky young man. The surgeon was breaths from deciding to amputate.”

“Lucky…” Dean murmured. It didn’t sound very lucky. “When will I be able to walk again?”

Dr. Hannigan glanced at Castiel, mouth twisting.  “That is to be determined,” she said, her voice calm and even. “You will be in a cast for at least eight weeks, possibly longer.”

“I… can’t,” Dean protested, trying to sit up in his alarm.  “I have work… I have to… have to…”  Castiel’s big hands pressed him back against the mattress, pinning him gently but effortlessly. 

“Be still, Dean,” he said quietly.  “Sleep now. We’ll discuss it when you wake up.”

The last thing Dean saw as the blackness took him was the worry in Castiel’s deep blue eyes.

 

The next time Dean woke up, his head was a little clearer.  He stretched and yawned, wincing as his arm brushed the bed railing.  He hadn’t even noticed the cast on his right wrist earlier.

“Great,” he muttered.  “Had to be my right fucking hand, too.  I’m so screwed.”

Movement from his left made him whip his head around and he blinked at the sight of Castiel curled up in an awkward ball on the tiny sofa beside Dean’s bed.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing still here?” Dean demanded.

Castiel lifted his head, blinking sleepily.  Awareness filled his face and he sat up, suppressing a yawn. “I felt someone should be here with you, just in case you were… distressed when you awoke,” he said.

Dean snorted. “Cas, when’s the last time you’ve ever seen me ‘distressed’ about anything?”

“You make a fair point,” Castiel allowed.  “However, as I feel responsible for you being here, I felt it was my duty to stay with you and make sure you did not want for anything.”

Dean stared at him for a minute, until Castiel began to look a little uneasy. “Do you _ever_ relax?” Dean finally asked.

A flicker of a smile crossed Castiel’s face.  “Your brother once asked me something very similar.”

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed.  “Where’s my phone, I should call him, he’ll be worried….” He glanced around, but the clothes he’d been wearing were gone, his phone nowhere in sight.

“It’s taken care of,” Castiel said, rising to open the drawer in the tiny bedside table. He held up Dean’s phone with a slight smile.  “You can call him again if you need to, but I took the liberty of doing that while you were in surgery. He and Gabriel will be here tomorrow.”

Dean took the phone from him and relaxed back against the pillows with a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief,” he said, staring up at the ceiling.  “Shit, of all the times for this to happen….”

“Is this disrupting your plans for something?” Castiel inquired carefully, still standing beside the bed.

Dean rolled his head on the pillows and looked up at him.  The drugs were blurring his thoughts again, now that his alarm about Sam was laid to rest.  Castiel looked down at him, concern in his dark blue eyes and full lips tight with worry. Dean spared a moment to wonder what they tasted like, but shook his head.

“Nothing major,” he said.  He shifted on the bed, wincing, and Castiel leaned over to pull the blankets up over Dean’s chest.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.  “Shall I call the nurse?”

Dean huffed a humorless laugh.  “Cas, a fucking car landed on me.  Yeah, I’m in pain.”

Castiel reached across him to press the call button for the nurse and Dean caught his arm, feeling the flex of muscle under Castiel’s skin. Castiel froze and Dean let go immediately and coughed.

“I’m fine, dude.  Don’t call the nurses, I don’t want to deal with them.”

“But if you’re in pain….”

“I guarantee you, they won’t do anything to actually help,” Dean said. “I’ve already had my painkillers. They’ll just take my blood pressure and poke and prod me, in the not fun way.”  He shifted again, trying to get comfortable, and Castiel hovered next to the bed, his face miserable.

“I wish you’d let me call them,” he said.

“I’ll be fine once I sleep for awhile,” Dean murmured.  “Sit down and keep me company, would you?  Tell me what you do for a living.”

Castiel hesitated but finally turned and pulled a chair near and sat down beside the bed. Dean fixed his eyes on Castiel’s face and gestured for him to start talking.

“My father’s line of work is primarily that of acquiring, consolidating and liquidating various businesses,” Castiel began.  “My work is mostly concerned in smoothing things along, making sure that the mergers go as planned, that everyone involved is satisfied, et cetera.”

“So you’re like the HR guy, huh?” Dean said through a yawn.

Castiel’s eyes creased when he smiled.  “I supposed that’s accurate enough,” he said.  “I also scout new companies, do research on possible businesses that my father might be interested in acquiring, and oversee groundbreaking on new locations.”

“Wow,” Dean mumbled.  “That’s… boring as hell… Cas….”

Castiel’s quiet laugh accompanied him into the dark this time.

 

Dean spent the rest of the day floating in and out of consciousness. Every time he drifted to the surface, the first thing he did was turn his head and check to see if Castiel was still there.

Every time, something eased in Dean’s chest when he saw the messy shock of Castiel’s dark hair, made even messier by napping on the couch beside the bed.

Castiel stirred and sat up as Dean yawned, stretching and wincing as his abused muscles protested.  Castiel stood and leaned over the bed, feeling Dean’s forehead.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Dean shrugged, fighting the urge to lean into Castiel’s warm, dry hand.

“Bored and hurting,” he admitted.

“Can I get you anything?” Castiel asked.  His hand seemed to be lingering on Dean’s forehead, but then he pulled away and straightened.  “Here, have a drink,” he said.  He held up a glass of water and put the straw between Dean’s lips.

Dean sipped obediently, feeling the cool liquid sliding down his throat and sighing in relief when he was done.  “Thanks,” he said, squirming in a vain attempt to find a comfortable spot.

The door swung open and Maura entered, brown head bent over the chart in her hands. She looked up when she got to the foot of the bed and set the papers down to prop her fists on her slim hips.

“Dean Winchester, as I live and breathe, aren’t you tired of this hospital yet?”

Dean grinned at her.  “As if I could ever be tired of seeing your gorgeous face,” he said.  “I’ve been trying to come up with reasons to be admitted here for months!”

Castiel turned away, rummaging through his coat pockets.  Dean glanced over and frowned.  Castiel’s shoulders were tense, his movements jerky and abrupt.

“Well, crushing your leg into Pringles crumbs isn’t the best way to get my attention,” Maura was saying.  She stepped up beside the bed and felt Dean’s forehead with one hand.

Dean tried not to flinch; Maura’s fingers were ice-cold against his skin. Maura noticed his twitch and pulled her hand away.

“Sorry,” she said.  “Poor circulation. I don’t think you have a fever. How are you feeling?”

Dean shrugged as Castiel pulled his phone from his pocket and walked toward the door. Dean followed Castiel’s lean figure with his eyes but Castiel didn’t look over as he slipped into the hall.

Dean sighed. “How long am I stuck here?” he asked Maura, busy on his other side checking his vitals.

“At least a week,” Maura said.  “Once the doctor is sure that the bones are beginning to set, you can go home.”

“I’m going to lose my _mind_ ,” Dean moaned.

Maura patted his arm, pretty face sympathetic.  “Maybe Castiel can keep you company?”

“He’s got work,” Dean said, and sighed, resting his head against the pillows.

Castiel came back inside as Maura began looking at the readouts of Dean’s vitals. “Well, I’ll check on you as often as I can,” she said.

“Nurse, may he eat solid foods?” Castiel asked.

Maura glanced at Dean’s chart and nodded.  “By tomorrow he should be able to handle solids, as long as they’re fairly soft.”

Dean sighed and plucked at the blankets as Maura patted his hand and left. “Cas, you think you could maybe get me a book or something before you go?  I’m gonna go insane, I can already tell.”

“What makes you think I’m leaving?” Castiel asked, settling himself on the couch again.

Dean blinked. “I… your phone call… I just thought….”

Castiel’s lips curved.  “The phone call was to tell my assistant to reschedule all my meetings for the next week.”

“You’re… staying?” Dean stared at him and Castiel began to look a little unsure.

“If that’s alright,” he said, shifting on the hard cushions. “I can go if you’d prefer, I just thought….”

“ _No_ ,” Dean said hastily. “God no, Cas, I just figured you were busy and had things to do and wouldn’t want to babysit an invalid, I… oh God, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Castiel said, his smile returning.  “If you’ll have me, that is.”

“ _Hell_ yes,” Dean said, and laid his head back on the pillows, sighing.  Suddenly, the next week didn’t seem nearly as awful as before.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean woke up the next morning, it was to the enticing smell of eggs and sausage. He hit the button and raised his bed as Castiel looked up from arranging the food on the tray and smiled at him.

“Good morning,” he said.  “How are you feeling?”

“ _Hungry_ ,” Dean said, making grabby motions at the food, and Castiel laughed and wheeled the tray toward him.

“My chef’s specialty is eggs benedict,” Castiel said as Dean filled his plate, “but Maura said nothing too solid, and English muffins aren’t ideal for that.”

Dean stopped and stared at him, and Castiel looked unsure.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You have a chef,” Dean said flatly.

Castiel lifted a shoulder.  “Well… yes. It is an indulgence and not one I advertise, because I am well aware that it contributes to the image of me being spoiled and lazy, but I quite literally am unable to make something as simple as toast.  It’s less an indulgence and more a necessity to keep me alive.  I have other areas of… expertise when it comes to consumables, but solid food is not one of them.”

Dean sputtered a laugh.  “Well, far be it from me to criticize when it’s netting me delicious grub.”

They ate in peaceful silence and Dean leaned back with a happy sigh when his plate was empty.

“That hit the spot.  I might have to keep you around, Cas.”

Castiel smiled at him.  “You’re only saying that to get to my chef.”

“True,” Dean admitted, grinning.  He leaned his head back against his pillows and sighed.  “When’s Sam getting here?”

“Their flight should be here at noon.  My driver will go pick them up and bring them straight here.”

“What about your car?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s lips twitched.  “My father… has other cars, Dean.”

“Oh,” Dean said, feeling stupid.  “Right. Of course.”

“In the meantime, I thought perhaps you’d like to try to teach me to play poker again,” Castiel continued, drawing a deck of cards from his pocket.

“We could do that,” Dean said, smiling again.  “It may take awhile, though; your grasp of the concept seemed kinda shaky last time I tried.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Castiel said, his lips curving up, and Dean felt warmth spreading through his chest.

They were deep into their fifth hand of rummy, Dean having decided to start with a slightly less complicated game, when the door swung open and Sam was standing in the doorway, lanky as ever, frantic worry in his green eyes.

“ _Dean_ ,” he said as he dropped his bag and rushed forward.

Dean let go of his cards and reached up to wrap his arms around Sam’s broad shoulders and pull him close.   “Hey, little brother,” he murmured against Sam’s t-shirt.  Sam smelled like saffron and cinnamon, he noted vaguely. “How are you?  Where’s your very annoying boyfriend?”

“Standing right here where I can hear everything you say,” Gabriel said tartly from behind Sam. Despite his tone, Gabriel’s striking brown eyes were amused, and he pushed his chestnut hair off his forehead with one hand as he grinned at Dean.

Castiel had stood up as Sam hugged Dean, and he rounded the bed to pull Gabriel into an embrace of his own.

Gabriel hugged him back, slapping him on the shoulder.

“I have missed you,” Castiel told him when he finally let go.

Sam eased back and Dean was dismayed to see tears in his bright green eyes.

“Oh, hey, _no_ ,” he said hastily. “I’m fine, Sam, it’s just a broken leg and some cracked ribs.  Really, no reason to get worked up.”

“It’s considerably more than that, Dean,” Castiel said as he pulled away from Gabriel and turned to face the bed.  Dean’s death glare seemed to have no effect on him as he addressed Sam. “My car nearly crushed him, Sam,” he said seriously.  “They thought they were going to have to take his leg.”

Sam covered his mouth with one shaking hand, staring down at Dean.

“Would you _shut up_?” Dean hissed at Castiel. He glanced back at Sam. “Seriously, Sam, I’m going to be okay. How long are you in town?”

Sam made a visible effort to get himself under control.  “Um… Papa Rousseaux gave me two weeks off. You don’t look very good, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to be dancing the tango again anytime soon,” Dean said, shifting on the bed.

“You couldn’t dance the tango before,” Sam pointed out.

“Precisely my point, Sam m’lad,” Dean said, grinning up at him. “Sit, tell me all about the bakery business.”

Castiel spoke before Sam could.  “Dean, I think Gabriel and I are going to go down to the cafeteria and catch up. Would you or Sam like anything?”

“Coffee, please,” Sam said, smiling at him.  “Gabe knows how I like it.”

Gabriel blew a kiss to Sam and followed Castiel out the door and Sam sat down beside the bed with a sigh.  Dean watched him for a minute.  Sam had lost weight, his hair needed a trim, but his eyes were bright, and despite the worry carving lines into his brow, he looked… happy.

Dean said as much and Sam smiled.

“I am,” he admitted.  “Things at the bakery are going good, I’m learning a shit-ton, and Gabriel’s better than ever.”

“You wanna tell me what happened there?” Dean asked.

Sam hesitated.  “He… you know about the panic attacks he had after Alfie, right?”

Dean nodded. “Poor kid, that was really hard on him.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, running a hand through his hair.  “He was dealing with all that emotional trauma, and then he went behind my back and got me the apprenticeship with Papa Rousseaux without telling me he was paying him to take me on.”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Dean breathed. “I’ll bet that went over well, when you found out.”

“Like a box of rocks,” Sam said ruefully.  “I thought I couldn’t trust him.  I felt… betrayed.  So… we broke up.” He glanced up and met Dean’s eyes. “Thank you for not swooping in to save the day.”

Dean lifted a shoulder.  “I wanted to,” he admitted.

“I know,” Sam said.

“So what happened?” Dean asked.

“We spent a few months apart,” Sam said, pushing his hair out of his eyes again. “And then I delivered pastries to an art gallery where he happened to be signing a contract to display his works with them.  And I remembered all over again why I fell in love with him.”  He shrugged, smiling a little.

“That’s it?” Dean asked.  “No crying in the rain, no standing under his window with a boom-box trying to win him back or running in slow motion through an airport?”

“Nerd,” Sam said, grinning.  “Nothing like that, no.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys worked it out,” Dean said, wincing as he shifted again and tweaked a sore muscle.

Sam immediately stood, eyes worried.  “What can I do?” he asked.

“Keep me company,” Dean said.

“Looks like Cas is doing a pretty good job in that regard,” Sam said, sitting back down. His eyes danced. “You guys seem to be getting along well.”

Dean regarded him suspiciously.  “Sam, I swear to God, if you play matchmaker, I’ll kick your ass.”

“How?” Sam pointed out.  “I can outrun you.”

“I’ll trip you and beat you with my crutch,” Dean snapped, and Sam laughed outright. “I mean it,” Dean insisted. “We’re just friends. Don’t you try setting us up or anything, you got that?”

“I got it,” Sam said.  “Anyway, you like girls. I was just teasing.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah… about that,” he said.

Sam looked up, startled, and Dean plucked at the bedcovers.

“I… kind of like both?” he finally said.

“You’re _bi_?” Sam demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve been gone for nearly a year,” Dean protested.  “I didn’t really figure it out until a couple of months ago, and I’m still not sure I want it getting around.”

“My lips are sealed,” Sam assured him.

“But just because I’m attracted to guys doesn’t mean that Cas and I are a thing,” Dean said sternly.  “So no meddling.”

Sam rolled his eyes.  “I already said I wouldn’t. But you’re missing out, I’m telling you. Have you _seen_ Cas?”

Dean stared at him.  “I thought you said you were asexual.”

“I _am_ ,” Sam said. “I’m not _blind_ though.  And Cas is one gorgeous guy.  You should get on that.”

“Change the subject,” Dean said desperately.   “ _Now_.”

Sam laughed and obeyed.  “How’s the shop?”

Dean relaxed, on safer ground.  “It’s good,” he said. “We’re pulling steady profits, I don’t get as much custom work as I’d like but we’re hanging in there.”

“Bobby? Ash?  How are they?”

“Ash is his usual shady self,” Dean said, hiding a grimace.  His leg was setting up a dull ache, but Sam couldn’t know or he’d worry himself to death.  “Bobby’s fine. Cas says he’s feeling guilty as hell about this stupid accident, of course.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing them.  Bobby still pining over Ellen?”

Dean snorted. “’Course he is. You’re gonna stay with me, right?”

“If you don’t mind having me and Gabe both, yeah,” Sam said.

“Just no loud sex,” Dean said, grinning at him.

Sam laughed as the door swung open and Gabriel and Castiel came in. Dean looked at Castiel as he handed Sam his coffee.  Castiel _was_ attractive, it was true.  Those piercing blue eyes and the rumpled hair that just begged to have hands run through it, not to mention his lips, full and soft and probably delicious…. Sam cleared his throat loudly and Dean jerked, startled.

Sam was grinning at him, the bastard.  “Cas needs to go back to his place and pick up some clothes and things. Gabe’s gonna go with him but I figured I’d stay here with you, unless you want some… alone time.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him.  Sam’s face was the picture of innocence, but Dean knew better.  His little brother was a devil in disguise, that was all there was to it.

“Company would be nice,” he said primly, folding his hands on his lap.

Gabriel twined his arms around Sam’s neck and Sam tilted his head back so he could meet Gabriel’s lips with his own.  Dean looked away as they kissed, feeling like an intruder.

When he looked back, Gabriel was whispering something in Sam’s ear and Sam grinned and tugged him down for another kiss before letting him go.

Gabriel laughed and straightened.

Castiel was still standing beside Dean’s bed and Dean looked up at him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Would you like me to pick anything up while I’m out?” Castiel asked. “You mentioned a book, earlier.”

Dean smiled up at him.  “I’ve got you guys, I’m okay for now.  Thanks.”

Castiel smiled back and touched Dean’s hand briefly.  “We’ll be back soon, and I will bring food.”

Dean watched him and Gabriel leave before looking back at Sam, who was trying and failing to hide his smile.

“Not a word,” Dean said.

“That crush of yours can probably be seen from the moon, is all I’m saying,” Sam commented as he picked up the cards and began to shuffle.

Dean sighed. “Shut up and deal, asshole.”

Sam snickered and obeyed.

 

They spent the day peacefully playing cards as Sam told him stories from the bakery of the recipes he’d mastered and was still working on.  Dean made encouraging noises even though he had no idea what “proofing the yeast” and “scoring the dough” was (was it being judged on something?). From there, Sam regaled him with tales about Gabriel’s art being sold in some of the finest galleries in New Orleans, and how he was already being recognized as an up and coming young artist.

Finally, Sam insisted they’d talked enough about him and it was Dean’s turn.

Dean shrugged, shifting his cards, held awkwardly in his left hand. “Haven’t really _done_ much since you left,” he protested. “I go to work. I fix cars.  I go home.”

“Dating anyone?”

“No,” Dean said, sighing.  “Honestly gave some thought to asking Maura out back when you and Gabe were going through… all that, but she has a boyfriend.  Anyway, I stay pretty busy with work.”

“And nursing that crush,” Sam said, grinning.  He pretended to dodge the glare that Dean leveled at him.  “I’m _kidding_ , jeez. But seriously, there hasn’t been anyone for you?”

“I’ve got other things on my mind,” Dean snapped.

“Such as?”

“Such as why my brother is such an annoying pain in my ass,” Dean shot back.

Sam laughed out loud and offered the deck for Dean to cut.  Then he sobered, fixing Dean with bright green eyes.

“Dean,” he said, and stopped as if weighing his words.

“Spit it out, little brother,” Dean said.

“I’m going to propose to Gabriel,” Sam said in a rush.

Dean’s eyes flew wide and he sat up straight, ignoring the zing of pain that the motion sent through his leg.  “You _what_?”

“I love him,” Sam said, a tremulous smile on his lips as he stared back at Dean’s shocked face.  “He’s the one, Dean, he’s… it.  I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Dean finally found his voice.  “Are you asking me for permission?”

“God no, of course not,” Sam said, laughing and swiping furtively at his eyes. “I’m a grown man, I don’t need your permission.”  He leaned forward and took Dean’s hand where it lay on top of the blankets.  “I would like your blessing, though,” he said very seriously.

Dean stared at him a moment.  When had his baby brother gone from being an awkward teenager to a fully functional adult? How had this happened without Dean realizing it?

Sam was looking a little uneasy.  “Dean… is something wrong?  Do you… have a problem with this?”

“No!” Dean said hastily.  “No, Sam, Gabriel is an annoying little shit but he’s so good for you.  You guys complement each other perfectly.” He pulled his hand away from Sam’s and made a slightly unsteady sign of the cross in midair.  “In nomine Patre… santa Maria… sangre de Dios….”

Sam was grinning even as he rolled his eyes.  “You’re an _idiot_ ,” he said. “I’m not sure that was even Latin!”

Dean dropped his hand and grinned back.  “You have my blessing, Sam, for whatever it’s worth.  So how are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, brow furrowing.  “I don’t want to just pop the question, I want to make a gesture. Gabe is… _Gabe_. He lives for grand gestures. And not a word to him, okay?   I want this to be a proper surprise.”

The door swung open and Gabriel and Castiel staggered in, weighed down by heavy bags.

“Bought the kitchen sink,” Gabriel gasped cheerfully, setting down his armload to cross the room and thoroughly kiss Sam, who rose to meet him.

“Dude, you’ve been apart for what, three hours?  Get a _grip_ ,” Dean said, crossing his arms and scowling.

Gabriel freed a hand and shot Dean the finger as Sam kissed him even harder, wrapping both long arms around Gabriel’s waist.

When they finally separated, Gabriel reached down and pinched Sam’s ass. Sam yelped, rubbing the offended spot, as Gabriel quirked a wicked eyebrow at Dean.  “ _That’s_ getting a grip,” he said.

“This is the guy you fell in love with?” Dean demanded of Sam.

Sam sighed, shrugging with a what-can-you-do expression, but he couldn’t quite hide the smile that flickered over his face.

Dean turned to Castiel, giving up on Sam and Gabriel as hopeless.  The dark-haired man had deposited his bags on the sGabel couch and was rummaging in one of them.

“Cas, please tell me you brought a time-turner with you,” Dean said. “Or something, _anything_ , to make the hours go faster.”

Castiel straightened, a furrow appearing on his brow.  “A… what?”

Gabriel snorted.  He was in Sam’s lap, arms linked loosely around Sam’s neck, and he arched an eyebrow again when Dean and Castiel turned to look at him.  “Your nerdiness is showing, Dean,” he said.

“I’m not a nerd,” Dean protested as the attention of all three men swung to him. He shrank in on himself a little. “Harry Potter is… it’s a classic, okay?”

“It is indeed,” Gabriel said, grinning.  “I just assumed _you’d_ never heard of him. I figured you were all about the muscle cars and girlie mags.”

“Don’t stereotype,” Castiel chided.  “I’m sure Dean has many layers of complexity to him.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to retort and Sam stopped him by plastering one big hand over the bottom half of Gabriel’s face.

“Mmf!” Gabriel looked outraged and Dean didn’t try to stop the laughter.

“Behave,” Sam said to his boyfriend, lips twitching, “or I’ll put you in the corner.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and Sam suddenly jerked his hand away with a stifled curse, wiping his palm on Gabriel’s T-shirt.

“Gross!”

Castiel stepped close to the bed and Dean looked up at him, Gabriel and Sam’s bickering fading into background noise.  Castiel’s eyes were warm with concern, and he leaned over, pressing the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” he asked quietly.

“Bored, mostly,” Dean admitted.  “I can only sleep so much, you know?”

Castiel nodded.  “I brought changes of clothing and the toiletries I require.  Unless you ask me to go, I won’t leave again until you are able to walk on your own.”

“Cas, man,” Dean said, suddenly guilty, “you know you’re not responsible for this, right? You don’t have to stay with me out of some misbegotten sense of guilt or… whatever.  It’s the lift’s joist that’s to blame here. Nothing – and no one – else. Got that?”

Castiel smiled down at him.  “I do… ‘got that’,” he said, “but nevertheless, I fear you’re stuck with me.”

Dean’s answering smile bloomed slow across his face.  “I’m glad you’re here, man,” he said quietly.


End file.
